


Something Carries On

by starsandgraces



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Angst, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:59:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandgraces/pseuds/starsandgraces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst part about dying, he decides, is that there's too much time to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Carries On

**Author's Note:**

> Title from and inspired by the Frightened Rabbit song '[Head Rolls Off](http://www.songmeanings.net/songs/view/3530822107858715851/)'. Beta'd by [withthepilot](http://withthepilot.livejournal.com/).

Lying on the planet's surface and slowly bleeding out, Jim suddenly understands his father entirely. It doesn't matter that he's dying, because he's saved everyone on his ship. He's done something with his life, and it might only be tiny in the greater scheme of things, but he's made a difference to over four hundred lives. He tries to work out how many family members his crew must have between them, but he's feeling too woozy from the blood loss to do anything involving his brain, so he just settles for the difference to his crew.

He stares down at the poor attempt he's made at a tourniquet for his leg, past the point of squeamishness even though he knows his foot has been mostly destroyed (it's probably a good thing he's dying; Bones will kill him for this one and Jim feels like it's about time he saved him the job), and watches his blood staining the already-red earth of this planet that they haven't even named yet.

But it's okay. He'll be long unconscious when the blood slows and stops, but he'll slip under knowing that his blood stopping is just the price that had to be paid to keep everyone else's blood flowing.

 

 _Twelve hours previously_

 

Someone has to do something; that much is clear. The enemy ship's shields are too powerful for them to be able to get in any decent hits with the phasers or photons, and they only manage to get them to stop firing (albeit briefly) by explaining that they have away teams on the planet's surface and need to beam them back up. The Ghelti, as the aliens turn out to be called, are willing to let them, which makes Jim immediately suspicious.

Their reasoning behind attacking the _Enterprise_ turns out to be the tiny, unnamed planet they're orbiting. Despite being uninhabited and outside all known territories (and therefore fair game for exploratory missions), the Ghelti have decided they want it, and they're willing to defend their claim to the death.

They've given the _Enterprise_ two hours to beam up all crewmembers and leave, or they will continue to fire until they're just space junk in orbit around the planet. For some reason, Jim doesn't trust them, and he says as much to Spock in the briefing room.

"Captain, we cannot just destroy the Ghelti ship. Starfleet will undoubtedly object to hostilities against a race with which there is a chance of future alliances."

"Shh, Spock, I'm thinking," Jim says. "If my gut instinct is right, which it usually is, they're going to try and blow us up whether we leave orbit or not. Scotty, if someone can get a bomb into the ship, will that get past the problem of the shields?"

"Aye, I don't see why not. We'd only need to get their shields down for a fraction of a second to beam someone over." Jim opens his mouth to ask another question and Scotty nods. "I've already got a team on it."

Jim grins. "Good man."

They're finalising the details of the plan when Bones turns up and he, of course, objects strenuously to Jim going in the first place. "Dammit, Jim, it's a suicide mission!" he says angrily.

"But it makes sense for me to go, Bones," he says, in his "infuriatingly reasonable" voice, because he knows how much it irritates Bones. "They won't kill me, so it won't be a suicide mission for me. They'll just beam me down to the planet's surface to die, make it look like I got left there by accident. If it's anyone else, they won't hesitate to kill them."

"And what makes you so special, Jim?"

Jim hesitates momentarily. "They, uh, seem honourable. And they won't be able to beam me back here because of our shields, so the planet's the only logical choice. Look, Bones, you just have to trust me. I just... I feel like this is going to work." They all know Jim's talking out of his ass, but it's still the only plan they've got.

And he's half-right, it turns out. When he's "discovered" (see: saunters onto the bridge after planting and arming the bomb in their engine room) on the Ghelti ship, they stun him, crush his communicator--"Oh, however will my ship rescue me now?" Jim exclaims melodramatically--and beam him down. He hadn't counted on being beamed into a cave, though. And then while he's busy regaining consciousness and dragging himself out to give the _Enterprise_ a better chance of locating his life signs from orbit, they fire at the cave, collapsing it around him. The rubble covers him almost entirely; while most of it is too small to do any more damage than small cuts and bruises, a particularly large rock seems to have landed on his right leg and crushed his foot.

He still sees their ship exploding, though, and allows himself a small satisfied smile before continuing to try and clear the debris off. He hisses when he sees the damage to his foot, the pain suddenly pulsing through him, and he nearly passes out again before his almost forgotten first-aid training kicks in. He rips at his already-torn trousers, trying to get a strip long enough to wrap tightly around his shin before he tries to move the rock off.

It takes a long time with the way his nerves are screaming at him every time he moves, and the tourniquet isn't even going to be the most difficult part. He has to lower himself back to the ground for a rest after he manages to knot the torn fabric around the ruin of his leg, and as he lies there he toys with trying to kick the rock off. In the end, he decides against it when he realises that it would roll over the remains of his foot--if it'd even move at all.

Sitting up again, he manages to wedge his fingers under the edges of the rock, and after a few deep, steadying breaths, heaves it off. There's a fresh rush of blood in spite of the tourniquet, as well as the sickening sight of white bone against the red of his blood and the black leather of his destroyed boot, and Jim gags and throws up what little is left in his stomach onto the ground next to him. "Fuck," he chokes out, forcing himself to retie the tourniquet before he slumps back down.

He says it again when he remembers that, thanks to the binary star system this little shit of a planet is orbiting, nightfall isn't going to come for around two more days. The sun's already too hot and he doesn't have the strength to try and find some shade.

Some time later, he realises that the twisted wreck that was previously his foot must be getting infected. With nothing to clean it out, the alien bacteria are having a field day in there. A party, even. "You know I'm sick when I'm not up for a party," Jim says, and he starts to laugh. It's more than slightly hysterical, and at some point it turns into tearless, heaving sobs. Which he is never going to admit to anyone, _ever_. If anyone asks in the afterlife, he was trying to cough up some dust from the cave-in.

The fever is almost more unbearable than the pain in his leg. He starts seeing things moving around in his peripheral vision that can't possibly be there. His parents as they are in the photograph he has of them from their wedding day, the one only Bones has seen. Spock, blurring between his present and future selves. Bones, the morning after they realised they could be more than just friends. Uncountable crewmen and friends and enemies and lovers, all come to say their goodbyes to James T. Kirk.

The worst part about dying, he decides, is that there's too much time to think.

So, here he is. Dehydrating, hallucinating, exsanguinating, trading his life for the lives of his crew; not quite the way his father had done, but he's pretty sure it's comparable. _What a thing to run in the family_ , he thinks. Then, _Hey, that rock looks kind of like Spock_.

"Spockrock," he murmurs aloud through cracked lips.

"Captain?" says the rock, and it moves. A hand that would normally be uncomfortably warm presses to his forehead briefly, then retreats. "Spock to McCoy. I have located the captain. He seems to be feverish and delirious, and has severe injuries to his right leg."

"Man, Spockrock, why'd you have to go and tell him that?" Jim says, his voice so hoarse it's barely audible. "And also, you're pretty efficient. If we ever need a replacement Spock, I'm totally nominating you." The hand is touching him again, but this time it's on his shoulder and it's the last thing he feels as he slips into the black.

 

 _Three days later_

 

"Hey, Bones. Can you still love me now I'm on my last leg?" Jim thinks this is the funniest thing he's said all day, but Bones doesn't look nearly so impressed by it as he feels he should. "Bones, you are a constant disappointment to me."

Bones grunts. "Shut up and let me finish examining your foot, Jim."

For once, Jim does as he's told. He watches Bones palpating his foot, wincing when he touches a tender spot.

"You don't have a fucking clue how lucky you are, do you?" Bones says after a long pause, sounding slightly bemused. "Even fifty years ago, you'd have lost your foot. Probably everything from the knee down, a century ago. And hell, I'm pretty sure if this was anyone else, they wouldn't have held together half as well as you have so far. Even so, there's a lot more wire holding you together than I'm comfortable with, and I've never seen someone need so many blood transfusions and survive."

Jim sits up and reaches out to slap Bones' shoulder. "The best doctor in Starfleet has something to do with the healing part, I'm sure."

"The osteoregenerators only work when there's enough bone to regenerate, Jim. M'Benga, Chapel and I had to rebuild your foot from the ground up. I didn't heal you, I reconstructed you."

"Build your own boyfriend?" Jim asks with a smirk.

"Jim, you can't keep doing this to me," Bones says quietly. The smile slips from Jim's face. "One day I'm not going to be able to bring you back, and that's going to kill _me_ , too."

"Look, do you really think I'm going to die on you? You're not going to get away from me that easily, old man." He laughs, then stops almost immediately when he sees the glare Bones is shooting him. "Okay, this is one of those things that isn't going to be solved by a joke and a blowjob, right?"

"You're learning, James," Bones replies, with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, _Leonard_ , maybe I'm not the blockhead some people seem to think I am."

"Coulda fooled me," Bones says, but the corner of his mouth is twitching slightly as he busies himself with strapping Jim's foot up again. "Okay, you're free to go back to your quarters, but I'm not clearing you for active duty until you've had at least two physical therapy sessions and I'm happy with your progress." He hands Jim a crutch. "You're going to need this, by the way."

"Bones, this is the lamest thi-- _augh_!" Jim drops the crutch and his hand jerks up reflexively to the side of his neck, too late. "When will you learn that this defines 'bad touch'?!"

"When you stop needing antibiotics, Jim." He puts the hypospray down again and shifts slightly, intending to reach down and pick the crutch back up, but Jim's hand on the back of his neck stops him. Jim exerts enough pressure to steer McCoy's face down to his own, but he doesn't kiss him. He leans their foreheads together, closing his eyes. After a long moment Bones does the same, resting his hand against Jim's hip, and they stay like that for a while.

"Okay?" Jim whispers eventually, combing his fingers through the short hair at the nape of Bones' neck. Bones squeezes his hip lightly as an acknowledgement. "Then I'll see you tonight; we can do some paperwork together."

Bones crouches to retrieve the crutch and nods. "I'll see you later, Jim. Now get the hell out of my sickbay, we're all sick of the sight of you."

Jim laughs gleefully and takes the proffered crutch, using it expertly as he leaves the room, only slightly slower than normal. "Don't think I'm going to keep using this thing, Bones," he calls behind him. "It's terrible."

 

 _Five days later_

 

Bones clearly has no idea where Jim got the zebra-striped pimp cane from, and no one on the bridge is admitting to anything. The only thing Jim will say is, "I told you I wasn't going to keep using that crutch."

Frustrating Bones is definitely a great reason to keep his blood where it belongs.


End file.
